


I take my coffee black…

by kasugayamaisforlovers



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Fluff, NO CAPES, No Tights, Slice of Life, dickkory - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasugayamaisforlovers/pseuds/kasugayamaisforlovers
Summary: Dick’s 28, just been dumped, and working at Jitters with a bunch of teens. What happens when a tall, triple shot espresso walks into his life?
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Koriand'r, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Comments: 66
Kudos: 143





	1. Yeah, I serve coffee now

The shame and self-loathing of being 28 and working a customer service gig with a bunch of teenagers is only marginally less intense than being 28, unemployed, and having to grovel back to your dad for money. Either way, his girlfriend just left him and if he doesn’t make rent by Saturday, his apartment is going to leave him too.

Dick ties on his seasonally appropriate, but non-denominational, red apron. His dead eyes shift lazily between the aggressively cheery buttons on his dresser. He has to choose at least one as today’s “flair.” Apparently, it’s someone’s job to keep tabs on whether the baristas change their flairs for the holiday season. Dick received a very passive aggressive email reminding him to “Please remember that the autumnal flairs are not appropriate after October 31st.” It was probably that narc, Gizmo…

He attaches the fuzzy pom-pom snowman to the top right of the apron. The weight of the snowman’s large, black eyes pull it forward into a drunken slump. Dick draws a long breath, catching himself in the mirror and tries not to notice the soft, grey leggings under the bed or how dark his undereye bags look. He shakes his head and stares into the middle distance for a long moment. When he returns to himself, he’s already running late. He jams the sharp edges of his corner store earbuds into his ears, shrugs on his well-worn leather jacket, and heads for the train.

*

“Hi. Welcome to Jitters,” he says in a ringing monotone. The roundfaced man barely seems to notice. He’s mesmerized by the menu directly above Dick’s head and hasn’t so much as acknowledged Dick’s existence. Although this man comes into Jitters at least twice a week and, although Dick has never seen him order anything but pumpkin spice lattes, he always goldfishes at the menu for at least 45 seconds. Dick vacantly scrolls through his mental to do list: _Vacuum. Dishes. Buy eggs._

“--spice latte,” says the man.

“yup,” says Dick jabbing the order into the register. “Anything else with that?”

“Uhhhh,” the man swings his head back up to reexamine the menu. _Do I have laundry detergent? Do I even have a laundry basket? I’m pretty sure the white one in the closet is Dawn’s. Fuck...is that a thing you return whe-_

“No. Just the latte.”

“Great.” Dick rings up the order and numbly serves the rest of the mid-morning crowd. He needs to focus on bringing in tips if he wants to eat _and_ pay rent. It feels like a fool’s errand, there’s only one demographic that usually tips Dick more than a few cents. Keying in coffee orders starts a montage reel in his head: tall, blonde lady, late forties, razor-sharp bob, probably a congressional staffer; hazel eyes, dark hair, sleeve tattoo, leather jacket, confident smile, maybe a tattoo artist; long legs, messy bun, natural face, freckles, definite yoga teacher; Alfred in sunglasses, 100% Bruce’s spy. A couple of those customers left their numbers with the tips. Alfred went so far as to attach a whole note. _“I think this one is for you dude, that old guy must really be interested,” laughs Gar._

The din of decidedly denominational Christmas music drones on in a 12 song loop. He’s going to have _Sleigh Ride_ stuck in his head from now until February.

*

_I’m dreaming of a white Christmas~_

“Ok so not to sound pretentious, but how have you not seen _The Invisible Man_?” says Gar simultaneously filling an order for a small peppermint tea and a large extra whipped cream hot chocolate.

“Maybe ‘cause I’m not 80?” quips Rachel mopping the rings of coffee up from the counter.

Gar turns all the way around to make a face at her and Dick is sure that the kid is going to burn his hands off under the still running coffee machine, but somehow Gar pulls the cups out of the way just at the right moment.

“Have you seen it?” Gar asks him. “Small peppermint tea, large extra whipped cream hot chocolate for Daniel.”

“I’ve seen it,” says Dick without further explanation, because he knows he has, but he’ll be damned if he can remember anything about it.

“There isn’t any cinnamon on this?” bites ‘Daniel.’

“The cinnamon is on the counter with the napkins,” chirps Gar completely unbothered. Daniel offers neither an apology nor an acknowledgement, he simply walks toward the napkin counter. Gar continues on about _The Invisible Man’s_ importance to the classic horror movie canon. For reasons Dick refuses to psycho analyze, he has a very brief, very violent fantasy of showing Daniel _just where_ he can find the cinnamon. 

“Dick?” says Gar waving a hand in front of his face. “Dude, you’re giving that guy a hella creepy look.”

“Who orders a small peppermint tea for $3?” growls Dick, eyes still on Daniel.

*

“Hey Murderface,” says Rachel, “think you can reach help me with this.” She points up at the bag of marshmallows wedged between measuring cups on the top shelf of the cabinet.

“Is that me? Am I Murderface, now?” asks Dick walking over. He’s only worked with this gothed up little punk for a few weeks, but he likes her. There’s something about how much she also seems to hate this job that instantly endears her to Dick.

“Obviously,” she smirks.

“Alright,” he says dryly handing her the bag. “Did your mom let you get another piercing in that ear? Is there even any cartilage left in there?”

Rachel pulls down the bottom lid of her eye at him and makes a ghoulish face. Dick responds by sarcastically sticking his chin out and bobbling his head.

“Did your dad let you be such, Murderface?” she asks.

“Wow. That’s… barely a comeback,” he laughs. She pushes up her nose at him and they both laugh.

*

_Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer_ plays over the speakers and, while Dick can’t say that he knows Dasher or Dancer, he does know that he’s over the amount of bells in these fucking songs. Adding another obnoxious sound to the chorus, his phone vibrates loudly against his thigh.

“Your pants have the most pockets I’ve ever seen,” says Rachel as Dick pulls a battered Samsung out of his cargo pocket. He’s not going to dignify that with a comment. What’s the point of pants if you can’t carry things in them? Also, these unzip into shorts: He chalks up the mental win.

The smile falls off his face when he’s sees the message from Dawn:

“Can I come pick up my stuff on Sunday”

“I’m working till 1”

“thought you got fired”

“thx. The coffee job.”

“right”

“so..”

“Yeah, sure”

“I’ll leave the keys under the mat”

“K”

“ok.”

_Thought you got fired._ His mind replays it in her voice, “thought you got fired.” He can hear her saying it nonchalantly, without interest enough to even be disappointed, like he’d fallen so beneath her he didn’t even deserve pity anymore…

_“You know for someone who hates him so much, you’re just like him!”_ He can hear the sound off the glass smashes across the kitchen floor, the sound of him calling after her to wait.

He looks down at the scar across this right knuckle, the visceral memory of that argument ricocheting through his nerves. That night ended with him punching into the drywall and then drowning himself in booze.

“Ooo is he texting on the job,” Gar teases, “You know Gizmo’s just waiting to write you up again.”

Dick flinches back to reality.

*

The Christmas music started last week, but this is probably the 70th time he’s heard _Jingle Bell Rock._ Its late afternoon and the flow of customers lulls to a temporary stop. Gar and Rachel are cleaning tables and pushing in chairs. Dick is tidying the counter.

“--this new lady just moved into my building,” says Rachel.

“Oh yeah? I feel like the weirdos in mine came with the building,” replies Gar re-standing the table advertisement for a new holiday coffee guaranteed to give you diabetes after the first cup.

“Haha like on _Pirates of the Caribbean_?”

“Part of the crew, part of the ship,” says Gar in a low voice doing a zombie walk toward Rachel and laughing. 

“I believe it, I’ve seen your neighbor with the red dress, she looks like she could melt into the walls.”

Dick is mentally walking through his apartment and surveying the things that Dawn left. Off the top of his head: the leggings, some bobby pins, a collection of DvDs…the laundry hamper. Each item is like a weight around his chest. He wonders why she would wait so long to come back for these items. Did she leave something more important than what he’s remembering? The scent of vanilla syrup wafting from the bottles on the counter makes him suddenly nauseous.

“Hey Dick?”

He turns toward Gar’s voice.

“I need to cash in on that favor,” says Gar timidly.

“Ok.” Dick can’t remember how many favors he owes Gar or how many Gar owes him. At this point both sides are probably massively in debt. _Debt._ Dick needs to find a roommate soon or there’s no way that he’s affording his apartment past the end of the year. The dread of starting a “roommate wanted” search seeps into him.

He looks down at Gar who pulls a menu up over his face like a protective shield, “I need you to trade me shifts on Friday,” he says softly.

Dick takes a deep breath and flexes his fingers.

“Sorry dude, I already asked Rach and she’s busy!” Gar says dipping around to the other side of the counter away from Dick.

“I’m not, I just don’t wanna be up that early,” says Rachel from across the empty café.

Dick looks at Gar for a long moment before giving his one syllable agreement.


	2. It’s not a situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past sticks to Dick like cling wrap, good thing someone comes along to distract him.

It’s Friday morning and Dick’s pissed about this opener shift. It’s not that it’s early: Dick’s up by 5am for his at home calisthenics, and, weather permitting, a jog. It’s the fact that he has to work the shift with Gizmo. The kid’s obnoxious, always walking around with his stupid googles, always cobbling together weird shit from kitchen equipment. Why does the café need a remote-controlled napkin dispenser? Why would _any_ place need that. Also: the kid’s a fucking narc. Dick sighs and shoves his feet into his boots. As he’s pulling the door open to go, Dawn’s things stare him in the face. Some past version of himself piled everything in a neat stack on the table by the door. Even after two and a half weeks, Dawn’s sweater gives off the faint smell of vanilla. He rakes his hand through his hair. His eyes burn. He doesn’t know how to do this.

He closes the door, sinking his face into the wood and just stares at the pile.

There’s more stuff than he thought. Toiletries. Clothes. A special, extra deep, wine glass. Soft, pink house shoes. A grapefruit spoon. But also stuff that made the house more homey, like the candle in the bathroom or the new sheets, or hand towels for the kitchen.

_“—at least come get you stuff.”_

_“I don’t want to see you.”_

_“Dawn—”_

_“Goodbye, Dick.”_

Dick’s chest feels like it’s caving in. He roughly flips off the lights and slams the door on his way out.

*

Gizmo pisses him off as soon as he walks through the door.

“You’re 91 seconds late, _Richard.”_ Dick would love beat the shit out of this kid. He needs a place to offload all his feelings and Gizmo’s face is looking better and better. But also, says the rational part of Dick’s brain, Gizmo’s 17. Dick takes an audible inhale through his nose. _10…9…_

“—and when’s the last time someone disinfected the spouts on the—” _6..._

“—furthermore, I’ve noticed that there aren’t any replacement cups by the counter what if we get a rush—” _1…_

Dick’s knuckles still itch for a taste of Gizmo’s face. Maybe he should try counting down from 20? He’ll have to call Donna for more stress tips. She’s good at that. Gizmo’s haranguing lasts several more minutes and dove tails into a list of tasks to complete over his shift. When Gizmo heads around to the pantry, Dick’s blood pressure finally eases back to normal.

The last thing Dick expects to walk into Jitters at 6:30 in the morning is a bright pair of purple velvet bellbottoms. _Holy shit._ This woman has to be six feet tall, even without the silver platform heels. Her legs go on forever...and then there are those hips. _Damn._ Her white, marshmallow coat is unzipped revealing another pair of luscious curves. His lizard brain is stalling out only to be forcefully restarted when he sees her smile and her hair, like a flashlight in the dark.

"Good morning," she beams and she sounds like she really means it.

"Hi," Dick manages. Her greenish eyes map his face. The way she looks at him makes him feel naked, the fact that she starts to giggle doesn't help either. There’s a challenge here, she wants to play. He clears his throat, heat rising to his face. "What can I start for you?"

Gizmo chooses this moment to come back from the pantry. "You're not on the register until noon, _Richard_ ," he hisses quietly squeezing in behind Dick.

It's obvious in the sudden interest she's found in the floor tiles, and the massive shit eating grin, that the heartbreaker in front of him overheard that. God he hates this kid.

"Can I get a medium vanilla latte, please," she smiles, again making eye contact. When Gizmo starts the order she leans toward Dick and whispers, "Blink twice if you need help."

Dick snorts, contemplates blinking aggressively, but somehow misses the moment. She slides him cash for the coffee. Behind him Gizmo calls out the completed order, "Medium vanilla latte for…"

"Kory," says the woman. "Thank you," she chimes. “Kory,’ repeats his lizard brain. _What does a Kory taste like?_

“It’s protocol to write the customer’s name on the cup, how long have you been working here?” chastises the goggle wearing teen, but Dick’s not paying him any attention. Kory drops her change into the tip bucket, throws one more lingering glance at Dick and, just as soon as she appears, she's gone again.

Dick needs a several minutes to distinguish up from down.

*

Dick is toying with the idea that she was a mirage. He hadn't had any water yet that day even though he hit a workout first thing. He pushes open the creaking window to let the steam out. Maybe he was dehydrated or half asleep. Has he ever had an hallucination before? He pushes the kale around the pan, absent-mindedly sprinkling in salt. He would have _definitely_ noticed if he’d seen her before. He hopes he’ll see her again.

“—the whole –situation?" asks Donna’s voice from the counter. Dick blinks like he’s waking up. The apartment is warm and quiet beside the crackle of cooking food. He’s been on his feet and in customer service mode for hours and now his brain is leaking out of his ears like he’s a rotting jack-o-lantern.

“sorry…what?”

“How’s the whole Dawn situation,” Donna repeats, painfully enunciating the syllables as Dick switches off the speaker and holds the phone to his face feeling suddenly heavier.

He sighs, "it's not a situation.” He dials down the heat on the kale and bends to check on the status of his sweet potatoes. “She came to pick up her stuff a couple days ago."

"Right," says Donna flatly, "and how are you?" _Tired as shit and starving. These sweet potatoes are taking their time._

"I'm fine, Donna,” he says. “I've been fine. You don't have to keep checking in."

"Ok because Alfred-" Dick's grip crunches the phone. _Bruce just has to stick his fucking nose into everything, doesn’t he?_

"Donna, I'm fine." And actually, for the first time since his breakup, Dick does feel fine.

"Well, listen my couch has a seat with your name on it and I've got Pizza Papa's on speed dial."

"Ok," says Dick the vague smile tickling his lips. “Donna, you got anymore tips for uhhh” he pulls the steaming tray of sweet potato from the oven, he doesn’t care that they aren’t fully done, “workplace stress?”

*

Dick likes his sheets tucked in tight. It’s like being buckled up. It makes him feel safe, keeps him from thrashing around all night. He clicks off his side lamp and lays back. Staring up at the shadows washing over the painted wood ceiling, he sleepily picks out shapes. His eyes trail around the groves finding branches…a tree… _the tree in front of his window at Wayne Manor_. His mind drifts on the feelings of exhilaration and rudderlessness he had climbing down the limbs of that tree. _To go where?_ He shakes the image away. The striations become the wings of a bird. A dove? A swan? A ballerina... He closes his eyes and rolls over staring instead at the texture in the wall. The lines are rounded. Softer. They form snowflakes…making a snowman with Alfred and borrowing one of Bruce’s ascots for his throat. Soft curves, like the shape of his Porsche before Jason wrecked it. Dick burrows into his pillow. Soft. His eyelids become leaden. Soft like a cloud...like curls…like curves… He floats into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I miss the animated Teen Titans, you guys. Gizmo was my dude.


	3. It’s actually Kory with a ‘K’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick has another run in with a certain magenta haired queen.

_All I Want for Christmas is You_ is already two verses in by the time Dick comes back from his break. _You’d think that the sadist that makes the playlists for this place would at least put them on shuffle._ Rachel’s sick today and, with no one to cover her shift, it’s just the two of them.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, dude?” Gar grins. Both of them look around the empty shop.

“Same rules as last time,” says Dick when the coast is clear. Gar fist pumps and starts to pull out the syrups. There’s a nihilist pleasure to this game that requires the mental state of someone truly at rock bottom to fully appreciate. Gar laughs evilly. Or it takes being a teenager, Dick thinks.

_There was a period of about two weeks when Dick first started, that Gar absolutely avoided him. Dick would work drinks and Gar would try to be anywhere else—mopping, cleaning the toilets, taking inventory—anywhere that wasn’t next to him. Dick would sneeze and Gar would jump out of his skin._

“No lavender syrup,” says Dick with a grimace.

“Yeah that’s probably a good call,” says Gar putting it back. He begins indiscriminately dumping syrups and drink mixes into the blender. “Loser cleans the blender and the bathrooms.”

Dick cracks his knuckles.

_It wasn’t until he overheard Gar giving one of his avid movie recaps to Rachel._

_“--and then he says ‘we didn’t come to fight monsters, we’re not equipped for it,” recounted Gar._

_“Creature from the Black Lagoon?” asked Dick from behind Gar._

_“Yes! Finally someone who-,“ he turned around and was startled speechless. “You…like classic horror movies?” Gar asks after a long silence._

_“Alfred likes the Turner Classic Movie channel,” admits Dick._

“Chug! Chug! Chug,” yells Gar recording Dick gulping down the goo.

“Oh my god,” says Dick spitting the shiny, oily goo into the sink and chasing the taste with a blender full of water. “Where is the chalky taste coming from?” he asks in disgust.

Gar pulls out a bag of the holiday sprinkles by way of explanation. Dick gargles more water.

“I guess you’re on toilet duty, man,” says Gar drizzling the last of the syrupy goo into a coffee cup. Dick shakes his head and heads for the bathrooms.

*

Dick spends the rest of the morning intermittently playing Gar in _Words with Friends_ and serving customers. Sometime in the late afternoon they get another rush. Gar’s on register. As Dick turns to call out the ‘cappuccino for Gina,’ he sees _her_. The klaxons blare in his brain drowning out the sound of any logical thought processes. He picks up and puts down Gina’s cappuccino twice and then almost just walks out from behind the counter into the line of customers before snapping back to reality.

“Gar,” he says crowding the younger man’s space. Gar looks up at him through green hair.

“What’s up?” he asks. Dick jerks his chin toward the coffee machines. “Really,” Gar mouths. Dick gives a curt nod, mouthing ‘you owe me.’ Gar rolls his eyes and wordlessly starts on a double shot caramel latte.

“What can I get you?” asks Dick trying to reign in his smile.

“Mmm,” she says with an exaggerated look at the menu. “There’s so much to choose from,” she says looking at him. Her eyes are black with greenish tints, he’s never seen anything quite like them before.

“Which drink is your favorite?” she asks.

Dick can’t remember anything about any coffee he’s ever had. For a second, he questions if he’s ever had coffee at all.

“He likes the Americano,” says Gar from behind him, “but that’s boring. Do the candy cane mocha with whipped cream.”

Kory cranes her head passed Dick to smile at Gar. _Wow, she smells really good._ “Sounds great. I’ll have a medium one.”

“Coming up!” says Gar very happy to have made a recommendation. Dick pulls a medium cup from the stand and starts to sharpie her name onto it.

“It’s actually Kory with a ‘K’,” she purs leaning in to inspect his nametag, “Richard.” _Really good. What is that? _

Something spontaneous bites him. He leans in conspiratorially, “I go by Dick actually. They uh,” he scratches the line of his jaw, “wouldn’t let me put that on the nametag though.” Her eyebrows float up her face, eyes sparkling. Her lips pull into a quivering line.

“You can laugh,” he grins. “They thought I was—”

“No, I get it,” she says busting into a genuine laugh. He laughs too and it’s the lightest he’s felt in a while.

“Nice to meet you, Dick,” she says still chuckling and extending her hand.

“Likewise, Kory,” he says shaking it. She’s surprisingly warm for how cold it is outside, and she has a gorgeous smile. _Gorgeous...everything,_ he thinks looking her over. She looks at him, looking at her, but he can’t quite read her expression.

“Candy cane mocha with whipped cream, I put some chocolate on the top too,” says Gar. Kory thanks him and pulls it off the counter. She stuffs a generous tip in the container and turns to go. It somehow hasn’t occurred to him that she would leave, at least, not so soon.

“I uh,” he clears his throat and she stops. “Um…I work 9 till 6:30 most days. I’m off on Friday and Wednesday, usually.”

She gives him a bemused look. “Ok,” she nods, “I’ll see you around, Dick.” She smiles and strides out on her mile-long legs. Dick watches her go unable to look away until she’s down the street. He can hear the grin in the way Gar says, “duuuuude,” without turning around.

*

On Monday he still held on hope, but now he’s not so sure. Don’t people that drink coffee need coffee to survive? She should’ve been back by now. Dick taps a pen against the counter in an increasingly fast staccato.

“One peppermint latte with soy-milk, please,” says a gangly teen in an oversized hoodie.

“Sure,” says Dick staring past the kid and out the door, “what size?” It’s probably crazy to ask random customers if they’ve seen her, decides Dick.

“Large, please.” _This kid wouldn’t know her anyway._ Dick can’t help but wonder what kind of people would know Kory.

“You got it.”

Probably an artsy crowd, he decides remembering back to Donna’s last art show. Less black and white striped sweaters, more…punk? That seems right. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ More of an alternative, sub-culture-y crowd, he thinks. That makes Dick feel tremendously out of place. He taps faster. What do those people talk about? Art? Music? He likes Bowie. Is that alternative enough to impress Kory? _But who doesn’t like Bowie? Tap. Tap. Tap._

Rachel slaps the pen onto the floor, “go outside and smoke a cigarette like everyone else! You’re driving me insane.”

Dick is silently stunned as his brain catches up to the last 30 seconds of reality that it missed. _Wait…Rachel, doesn’t smoke does she?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone get Richard some water…


	4. Is this happening?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Kory time, y’all buckle up!

The whole day has been terrible, but then—coming out of the snow like the first flower of spring—he sees a bright flash of magenta curls. He feels like someone just changed his battery. It’s like he’s playing _Mario Kart_ with Gar and he just picked up the Super Star: nothing can touch him. He helps the volleyball mom with four, coffee-drinking preteens and manages to get all of their add-ons and substitutions without mistakes. He anticipates that the man ordering the ‘chai’ meant a ‘chai latte’ and doesn’t have to pour out the drink half-way through making it as the man corrects his order. His smile is just believable enough for the fussy senior that insists on customer service with a smile.

At last here is she is. _Kory._

“Hi,” he says a nonchalantly as possible, sneaking around to the edge of the counter to talk to her.

“Hi,” she says, and the way she says it makes him feel like she knows exactly how excited he is to see her again. The part of him that’s embarrassed by that is weirdly quiet. She leans on the counter, curls hugging her cheeks. She pulls a spiral of hair loose and twirls it along her finger, “do you have dinner plans for tonight?”

The words bounce around his skull again and again before he’s sure that he understands what she just asked and then he can’t stop smiling. _Is this happening?_

“So?” _Her lips are so pretty._

“Yes! I mean,” he rewinds the conversation in his mind to her actual question, “no, I don’t have dinner plans, but yes I would love to go to dinner with you.” The smile that glitters over her face makes Dick giddy. She tosses her hair over her shoulder.

“Can I pick you up after your shift?”

Dick chuckles. _What’s he gonna say, no?_ “I’ll see you then,” he says bemused.

“Great,” she hums. Her phone buzzes. “I’m on the clock, I’ll see you later, Dick.” Dick’s brain is moving too slow to formulate intelligible sentences, but he does manage to nod. She excuses herself with an apologetic smile and clicks away briskly on impressively tall heels.

Gar is open mouthed. “How did you do that dude? Please teach me.” He and Gar are staring after Kory. 

“Rachel, I’m taking my 15,” states Dick speed walking into the pantry and closing the door behind him.

“Please don’t do anything gross in there,” comes Rachel’s voice from beyond the door.

“I’m making a phone call,” snaps Dick indignantly.

~

“I know, I…Alfred,” he says cradling his phone against his ear and trying to keep his voice low, “something came up. Just tell Bruce…ok…yeah, thanks Alfred…I’m sorry too. Ok…Take care, bye.” This is going to come back to bite him in the ass, he thinks, but hopefully not for a while.

*

“So how long have you wanted to be a barista?” she smirks.

He snorts, “you’re funny.”

She leans back and beams at him, “I’ve heard that about myself.”

Dick’s eyes follow the line of her jaw down her neck to the plunge of her slinky blouse. She doesn’t look like she has anything in common with the people in this dive bar. How did she even find this place? In this city full of expensive hipster bars and shuttered up old favorites, she’s found one of the last places with a history. Yellowed pictures of famous patrons line the walls. Stickers and graffiti seem to grace every surface in this place. Someone’s managed to tag the ceiling.

Kory’s swaying to “Saturday in the Park,” curls bouncing, earrings tinkling. The blue neon from the ‘cocktails’ sign is catching the glitter on her face. He’s having a hard time rationalizing how this woman could be interested enough in him to brazenly ask him out while he was on shift at Jitters of all places. She shoots him another glowing smile.

Her confidence is magnetic. “I wanted to be a trapeze artist,” he blurts. If she’s surprised by the sudden outburst, she doesn’t show it.

“Well you do have a nice body,” she remarks. He feels the blood rush to his ears. He’s grinning but he doesn’t know where to look or where to put his hands.

“You didn’t know?” she teases taking a swig of her beer. Dick laughs in embarrassment.

“You’re not bad either,” he ventures softly enough that it can almost be construed as shy.

“Thank you,” she says flashing another million-dollar grin and Dick is certain that he is in _way_ over his head.

“What happened with the trapeze artist thing?” she asks seriously. Dick scrubs his jaw. Why did he bring that up?

“Uh…I was on track until I wasn’t,” he says truthfully. She pulls a fry from enormous basket between them waiting for him to go on.

“On track?”

“Yeah I, we—my parents and I—worked with a traveling show,” he sighs. This isn’t a topic Dick particularly enjoys. In fact, it’s been several years since he’s talked about it at all, and he has no idea why he would bring it up now. “I don’t know,” he shrugs, “There was an accident. My parents…just…it uh…it fell apart after that.”

“Were they-”

Dick shakes his head. Kory reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. Dick smiles faintly.

“When was this?” she asks quietly.

Dick shrugs again. “Maybe…eighteen years ago now?”

“What did you do after that?” _I gave up._ She pushes the fry basket towards him reminding him to eat. Making eye contact has suddenly upped in difficulty for Dick.

“Focused back on school, graduated. Got a degree. Got a job…well jobs,” he answers taking a long pull from his beer.

“So what’s your new dream?” He stops chewing to take her in. Her gaze is, once again, uncomfortably direct, like she’s laser scalpeling through layers of him until she finds the core. He looks at her. She doesn’t look away. He looks into the beef of his burger and slowly puts it back on the plate.

“What do you do,” he deflects with his best smile.

“I’m a buyer for a second-hand fashion boutique,” she says slumping back into the booth seat. “I like it. I fit in there.” Dick looks her up and down: big, magenta hair; shiny, low cut blouse; a billion jingling bangles; crocodile print mini skirt; thigh high boots. His mind conjures a storefront filled with brightly dressed, leggy Amazons.

“What?” she says laughing.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking something.” They both laugh. The conversation is easy. Usually Dick has a hard time talking to new people, but Kory doesn’t really do small talk which actually works to his advantage. They share their favorite customer service horror stories. Kory wins. Dick can’t imagine cutting someone out of a pair of jeans… They bond over their shared love of Pizza Papa’s supreme pizza. Dick regales her with stories about what teens are into these days, a topic he is _embarrassingly_ well versed in due to the company he keeps. They keep ordering beer.

“I’m serious,” snickers Dick.

“He didn’t,” roars Kory wheezing for breath.

“I don’t think that Jason’s brain has the ability to judge risk,” he laughs. Kory is dying of laughter. “It’s not even as bad as the time he thought that he could kick flip off the wall in the study. It was not a thick wall.” Kory’s choking on her drink and coughing so hard that Dick feels compelled to walk around to her side of the table to pat her back. 

“Sorry!” she sputters, “that’s just so stupid.” She’s still laughing. When Dick starts to step back toward his boothseat she grabs his hand. Kory scoots over making room and pats the newly empty space beside her. Intrigued, Dick takes it and Kory slides closer to him scanning his face for permission. Dick’s heart relocates to his mouth and thumps like a jackhammer. His body moves without him, arm wrapping around Kory who cuddles in closer.

“You smell _really_ good,” he whispers scarcely resisting the urge to bury his face in her hair. She giggles.

It hits him that it’s late, that some time soon they’ll have to leave this bar. He looks down at Kory and a lump rises to his throat. He doesn’t want to let her go so soon. He’s been letting her go too soon for weeks and now he’s finally got her. Is it too early to take her home? Will he fuck everything up if he asks? Can he buy time some other way?

Kory’s hand is hot on his thigh and it’s maybe _too_ pleasant after all the beer. He turns toward her, snakes his arm around her waist. Kory’s leg slides up his and her eyes are smoldering. He pulls her in and she bring his face to hers. The kiss is soft. He kisses her again, her mouth slipping open for him. The riptide of his own pent up yearning catches him immediately. He pulls her tight, she kisses deep. Dick feels his brain dialing off. A tiny voice in the back of his head is slamming a panic button labeled ‘not here.’

“We probably should go,” breathes Dick simultaneously reluctant to pull himself from Kory and incredibly embarrassed that he’s one heartbeat away from climbing all over her in a dive bar booth like a horny teenager.

This time Kory’s the one that nods. The green in her eyes is burning bright and it’s hard to look away. After a heartbeat the spell breaks and Kory says, “You’ve got a little something.” She motions toward her lips. Dick nods, starts to get up to use the mirror in the bathroom, awkwardly decides against it, and ends up using Kory’s compact mirror instead. She has the grace not to tease him about it. 

“So,” asks Kory sucking in her bottom lip, mesmerizing Dick completely, “How far do you live from here?”

_Hnggg._

“Close,” he lies jumping out of the seat and helping Kory up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Kory. She’s so fun to write. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. 😊 Stay tuned, we’re getting spicy.


	5. Fuck you, Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Bruce et all ruin everything good in Dick’s life

“So you chose to work at the westside Jitters to be as far away as possible from your house?” she teases lolling against the side of an empty train seat as they buckle down the track.

“Something like that,” he answers holding the adjacent grip pole.

“Didn't want to run into any one you knew?” she guesses with an uncanny accuracy that makes Dick feel like he's being laser scalped again. 

"Kory," he deflects.

"What happened to your last job again?" she asks sidling closer to him and bumping his hip playfully.

" _Kory_ ," he pleads. He’s starting to feel like his thoughts are scrolling by on a jumbotron for Kory’s viewing pleasure. He crosses his arms over his chest in an attempt to lock away his secrets. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Maybe I just like hearing you say my name,” she flirts purposely brushing his hand as she positions her hand on the pole. Dick doesn’t know what to do with that. His face is on fire again. She winks at him. _How is she doing this?_

“So how much longer is this trip?” she asks giving him a chance to recover. 

“We’re the next stop.”

“Great,” she smiles. Dick feels the tension drain from his body. Kory moves a half step in front of him, closer to the door. She’s thrown off balance as the train lurches to a hard stop. Dick instinctually steps out behind her, catching her against him with a thud. The soft noise she makes as they collide ignites a flame in Dick’s stomach. He’s hit with a powerful desire to take her. Her warm, sweet, implacable smell wafts over him in a cloud and his lizard brain claws for dominance over his body.

The train doors screech open. A sharp, icy wind blows in pushing the lizard brain back. Kory huddles into her massive, fuzzy coat. Dick on the other hand is plenty warm... He leads them in a brisk walk to his townhouse apartment.

He catches the look on Kory’s face when they approach the building, but doesn’t say anything. When they get to the top of the fifth flight of stairs, and he unlocks the door onto, what he understands is a huge living room—especially for this town—Kory’s face contorts like she’s planning to steal Christmas.

“So they pay you pretty good at Jitters, huh?” she says, smile stretched across her lovely mouth.

Dick snorts and pulls off his boots. _It’s probably not the time to tell her I’m looking for a roommate._ He takes off his coat and motions for hers.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks. Kory shakes her head and continues to look around the room.

“You warm enough?” he asks from the coat closet.

“I could be warmer,” she says from close behind him. Every nerve on the back of his neck just woke up. He turns around slowly. Her arms loop his waist and he is sure that, even without her superhuman ability to read him, she can feel his heart hammering away. He closes the tiny distance between them in a quick step and she gasps. Her noises turn his brain off so fast. His fingers bury themselves in her hips. Her breath sends a ripple through his skin and he closes his mouth over hers, no longer able to control himself.

Her nails rake through his hair and it feel _so nice._ His hips roll into hers and the kinetic energy sends them stumbling into the frame of the closet doorway. Dick can’t get over the taste of Kory’s mouth. And, he can’t help the sound he makes when she snakes her tongue across his. He can feel her smile through the kiss, but it just eggs him on. He runs his hands along her sides relishing every dip and curve. He goes for her blouse right as she tugs the front of his pants. They undress one another in a shimmy of limbs and hungry kisses. Kory drapes a bare leg around his thigh and Dick is throbbing.

The tiny voice in his head flickers between ‘bed’ and ‘couch’ but a much louder voice also offers ‘right here’ and ‘kitchen counter.’ Kory bites his bottom lip, and what little internal monologue he had, stops. He picks her up, kicking his cargo pants deeper into the closet. Kory giggles and kisses along his jaw. The pressure of her thighs around his waist is sublime. They make it into the hallway before Kory finds the sensitive place just past the edge of his jaw and Dick crashes them into a wall.

“Kory,” he growls dropping her onto her feet. Watching Kory squirm between him and the wall is riveting. She gives a needy whine pulling at Dicks hips. He kisses her hard, sinking his tongue deep into her mouth, swallowing her every sound. His knees feel like they might give out. The friction against his boxer briefs is starting to be too much. She pushes against him propelling him through his open bedroom door. The edge of the mattress hits the back of his thigh and she yanks off his underwear falling to her knees in front of him. The steam of her breath on his dick makes him lightheaded. The first wet swirl of her tongue makes the blood throb in his ears.

“ _Kory,_ ” he cries. He’s going to explode. He wants to fuck her mouth, he wants to fuck her into the bed, he wants….he wants… he can’t think straight when she’s doing that with her mouth. He collapses into her, gripping her shoulders to steady himself.

“I like it when you beg,” she says in a husky voice. Her green-black eyes burn up at him. She rises slowly one hand pulling at the back of Dick’s hair the other finding his face and guiding it to hers. “Get on the bed,” she commands. Dick huffs. _God she’s sexy._ She could have told Dick to bark and he would have done it.

He slides onto the bed, for the first time taking in the neon green mesh underwear that Kory’s wearing. This changes things, he thinks. He’s going to have to taste that first. Watching Kory crawl toward him is short circuiting what’s left of his brain. She kisses him, sucking his lip in a way that’s becoming addicting. She finds that spot behind his jaw again and Dick sinks into the bed. He looks up at her and loves the way the hallway light dances across her black marble skin.

He shoots her a cheeky eyebrow wriggling himself under her until he’s between her thighs. He pulls her hips toward his mouth and mops wet licks along her slit. He can almost taste her through the mesh. Kory’s body shutters violently above him. She inhales sharply. He peels her underwear to the side and plunges his tongue into her. The spasm of Kory’s hips against the sides of his face only adds to his libido. He traces the alphabet into her folds, hungrily lapping up the taste of her every quiver.

“Di—ck,” she stutters shakily dismounting his face.

“Stay on top,” he rasps.

They look at each other feverishly. Kory plants her perfect ass on his lap and he almost cums right there. She sinks onto him, hands splayed on either side of his torso. They start a sloppy, pounding rhythm but only manage a few strokes before Dick’s vision starts to white out. He sinks a final, squelching thrust in Kory before she buckles too. She melts into him resting her forehead against his as they pant.

*

Dick wakes up the next morning feeling happier and more rested than he has in recent memory. Kory’s arms are wrapped around him. He traces his fingers lightly across her sculptural hands until the soft flow of her breath lulls him back to sleep.

*

“DIIIIIIIICKKKKKKK!” **Thump. Thump. Thump**. “Dickie!!! I know you’re there man, open up! Dad’s here to see you!” **Thump. Thump. Thump.** “DICK!!!!”

Dick squints at the clock. 7:45AM, Saturday. _What the fuck?_ He rolls over to find Kory groggily sitting up.

“What’s going on,” she croaks.

“I don-”

“DICK I’M GONNA KICK THIS DOOR DOWN, BRO!” The blood drains from Dick’s face. He jumps out of bed, yanks his bathrobe out of the closet and rushes toward the door. Then he runs back to the bedroom and whispers, “I am so sorry, I’m gonna deal with this and then make you breakfast.” He throws the bedroom door closed in panic.

_I’m gonna drown Jason in my toilet,_ thinks Dick opening the front door and very nearly missing Jason’s fist as he reels back to continue knocking.

“Dickie!” yells Jason with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“We tried to call, Master Dick,” apologies Alfred.

“Good morning,” says Bruce casually, as though Jason hadn’t just been waking up every neighbor on the floor. Jason pushes past Dick into the living room.

“Why can’t I have this apartment? Dick doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t even use it for anything fun,” mopes Jason. He kicks off his shoes before jumping over the back of the couch and flipping on the TV like he owns the place. Dick would like to headlock Jason into unconsciousness, but as he fantasizes, his eyes flit to the still-open hallway closet.

Bruce’s eyes too rest on the silky, black blouse thrown hap-hazardly over a pair of Dick’s shoes.

“Bad time?” he asks in a low voice. Dick has a hard time hearing him over the sound of his teeth grinding together. Before he can answer the sound of pans diverts his attention to the kitchen.

“Breakfast?” asks Alfred already pulling ingredients out of the fridge. _If only I had enough hands to choke all of them at once._

“Can we actually, get breakfast somewhere else?” bites Dick staring at Alfred.

“Why? We just got here,” says Jason from the couch.

“Dick?” calls Kory and everybody’s head snaps toward the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick is the little spoon and no one can change my mind. Hahaha Hope y’all liked this chapter!


	6. I’ll do anything, but I won’t do that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick desperately tries to make things less weird between himself and Kory but she’s AWOL.

“No way, dude!”

Jason shoots up off the couch and barrels toward the hallway.

“Jason,” yell Bruce and Dick simultaneously.

“Jason I will fucking end you," hisses Dick skidding out to block Jason’s path and out walks Kory, naked except for Dick’s sweater. Dick prays for the earth to swallow him. Jason is staring at Kory who is staring at Bruce who is also staring at Kory. Bruce turns away bashfully and Dick finally gains motor control of his feet. He motions for Kory to return to the bedroom with him. He has no idea what he’s going to say for himself.

The bedroom door clicks shut.

“Can I get my clothes?” asks Kory sitting on the edge of the bed. It’s like she’s been recolored in grayscale. It’s not just his dark sweater, it’s something else. Her eyebrows are drawn together in an austere expression who’s exact meaning Dick is struggling to read.

“Yeah,” replies Dick completely unable to force himself back out into the living room.

“Family reunion?” Kory asks flatly. This is the longest Dick has seen Kory go without smiling. _I really fucked this up._

“I am _so_ sorry,” Dick says scrambling to find a more meaningful apology or explanation, really, for the massive shitshow she’s in the middle of.

“Can I just get my clothes please,” she repeats. Dick’s shoulder crumple around him.

“Gimme a sec,” he sighs. Kory bows sarcastically at the door. Dick gives a stiff nod and goes to gather her things. Jason is waiting for him at the edge of the living room like a fenced hyena. Dick ignores him.

“She’s hot,” Jason smirks. Dick lunges at him, but Jason dodges, laughing.

“Jason,” barks Bruce, “put on your shoes.” He and Alfred are idling near the front door.

“I’ll meet you at the usual place,” says Dick wishing he didn’t have to, that he could instead rewind time back to this morning when Kory’s arms were wrapped around him and he had a chance of starting a relationship with her.

The Wayne-whirlwind dissipates and Dick returns to the bedroom carrying his and Kory’s clothes. He has the sinking feeling that he very-probably won’t see Kory again. The storm of emotions bubbling in his stomach is leaning toward anger.

*

“To be honest son, I thought that since you just broke up with your girlfriend, you’d probably be alone,” says Bruce crunching into a jellied toast.

“Ok…I didn’t _just_ break up with my girlfriend—”

“--she broke up with you,” Jason nods.

Dick throws him a look continuing, “it’s been…a while… and I met someone”

“It hasn’t been that long,” says Jason. Dick narrows his eyes at him.

“We’re glad you met someone new, Master Dick,” says Alfred diplomatically.

“More eggs?” asks Bruce as the waiter walks over.

“Oh he’ll have more, he worked out pretty hard last night,” laughs Jason. Dick stomps his foot under the table. “OW dude! What the fuck…”

“Language, Master Jason,” chides Alfred. _I hate this family._

Dick stares out the diner window, watching the snow blow by in a lazy curtain. It’s colder now than it was yesterday. His eyes wander from pedestrian to pedestrian looking for a billow of curls or a thigh high boot. He unlocks his phone and realizes for the first time that he doesn’t have Kory’s number. _Fuck!_

Dick’s running back to his apartment, but even before he gets there, he knows it’s too late.

*

“You’re doing the Murderface thing again, dude,” says Gar following the line of Dick’s gaze. Dick doesn’t dignify that with a response. It’s been a week. He knows why she’s not coming back but he _really_ wishes she would. Her social media accounts must be locked down because he can’t find her. The only thing he manage to track down was her LinkedIn page, but that wasn’t exactly helpful because who checks their LinkedIn messages?

He slumps into his arms and watches the snow. He’s been by the secondhand boutique twice but didn’t see her either time. Everything in his life fucking sucks. Fucking Gizmo wrote him up on Tuesday for forgetting his stupid holiday button. Dick didn’t forget. The pompom snowman just broke halfway thru his shift and he had to throw it away.

“I’m taking my 15,” says Dick to no one. Lifelessly pulling off his apron and shoving it under the sink.

“Ok,” says Gar. “Enjoy?” Dick grunts.

“He’s gonna go by the Flamingo Exchange again,” mutters Rachel.

“No way,” whispers Gar, “five bucks says he makes a phone call.”

“You’re on,” says Rachel and the shake on it.

If Dick wasn’t so despondent, he’d be annoyed. Dick goes pull to open the door and it doesn’t budge. He yanks it rattling the glass.

“It’s a push door,” Rachel yells from behind him. The customers at the table behind him snicker.

Dick shoves open the door and stumbles forward into the gathering snow. Flamingo Exchange is a 20 minute walk from Jitters. _She’s not going to be there._ He huddles his ears into the collar of his leather jacket and briskly makes his way.

Back at Jitters Gar slips Rachel a five.

“You know what would be a Christmas miracle?” asks Gar.

“Dick shaving again?”

“I would’ve gone for deodorant first,” shrugs Gar. Rachel chuckles. “You’re not going to tell him?” he asks.

“I don’t know what happened, Gar.” Gar makes a confused face. Rachel sighs, “I’m not saying anything did happen, but don’t you think that if she wanted to keep talking to him, she would?” Gar looks between Rachel and the door.

“Benefit of the doubt? Dick’s a mess but I don’t think he’s a monster.”

Rachel thinks about it and then rolls her eyes.

*

"Wow.”

"This is the third time, Donna,” huffs Dick, forehead pressed to the glass of the Flamingo Exchange window, squinting as he watches shoppers pull various weirdly shaped and bizarrely colored clothes from the circular racks. “I might have imagined the whole thing," he says.

"Yeah, I don’t think so, Jason was pretty vivid in his description.”

The line is silent and then Donna is laughing hysterically. “Sorry, too soon?”

“Too soon,” monotones Dick, “Is it weird to go in and ask for her?” Dick’s hand is already on the flamingo shaped handle.

“A little.” Dick goes in anyway. At least it’s warm inside.

“…Give me something Donna, I’ve tried everything I can think of.” He’s completely out place in this sea of purposely holey sweaters, neon heels, and zebra striped overalls. He pushes clothes around the rack to avoid feeling like he’s loitering. 

“Have you asked Br--.”

“—I’m not doing that.” _This is a tube. What part of your body is it meant to cover?_ He returns the fuzzy tube to the rack. This was a bust.

“So what’s you big line when you see her again?”

“What?”

“What are you gonna say?” Dick tunnels through several closely packed racks and lands in front of a mirror. The snow melting on his head glues his overgrown hair to his forehead and drips down his neck. He’s been having a rough time sleeping, as indicated by the duffle bags under his eyes. This is the pair of cargo pants he’s worn since Sunday.

“Good point,” Dick admits to his reflection, “What would you say?” Donna exhales a loaded breath.

“Sorry my whole family saw you naked?”

“I hate you,” says Dick wriggling his way back to the door.

“Sorry I let my whole family know we were having sex?”

“Please stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BatFam is life and Jason is my sweet, bad son. <3 Apologies to Rachel and Gar for being used solely to further Dick’s story. SMH Gotta write y’all your own fic next time…


	7. Fajitas. What did you wanna talk about?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel is a goth baby saint and Dick doesn’t deserve her.

“Rachel, you have to let me into your building.” He’s holding her shoulders with a manic energy. Rachel’s face contorts into a derisive scowl. Gar flips the Jitters sign from open to closed and starts stacking chairs onto tables.

“No, I don’t,” she says pulling the dumdum from her mouth.

“Please. C’mon, you know I’ve been trying to contact her forever,” he pleads. Rachel just looks at him.

“Rachel, please.”

She sighs. “Fine, but just…can you dial down whatever this is.” He lets go of her shoulders, embarrassed that he was holding them at all. “And please stop smiling like that,” she says disgusted. He pushes his overgrown locks off his face and tries for a look of dignity.

*

Dick squints and rotates the receipt scrap on which Rachel scrawled Kory’s room number. He really hopes this is the right door. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders before he knocks. He hears the commotion of pans and a scuffle of feet before the door scrapes open.

“Why do you know where I live?” she asks looking him up and down in consternation. Kory is barefoot and bundled in a thick lavender colored robe. She’s holding a spatula in one hand and the doorknob in the other. _God she’s beautiful._ The savory smell of her dinner wafts into the hallway.

“I..uh, I know one of your neighbors, Rachel,” he answers. “Can we talk?”

“You wanna talk?” she says in disbelief. She shrugs. “Ok, come in.” Dick takes a step forward.

“Take off your shoes.” He laughs nervously stepping across the threshold. Kory returns to the pan on the stove, pushing around a rainbow of bell peppers. The small apartment is papered in a repeating yellow floral pattern. The front door opens to the kitchen on the right and a living room beyond. Two doors frame an entryway with a beaded curtain toward the center of the left wall.

Psychedelic painting and prints are framed at odd intervals along the living room wall. Twisting black statues of dancing figures sprout from side tables and shelves. The apartment is lit by free standing lamps whose light is diffused by an assortment of scarfs. It’s cluttered but very cozy.

“What’re you cooking,” asks Dick awkwardly standing by the door, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Fajitas. What did you wanna talk about?” asks Kory turning toward him.

“I…” _am not sure how to start._ Kory’s face slowly contorts into a grimace.

“I knew it would be weird,” she says. Dick tilts his head. “I knew you’d still be weird about it,” she sighs mixing in a tangy smelling sauce. Dick leans against the counter behind her.

“Am I supposed to be ‘normal’ about my family walking in on us?”

“Were you embarrassed?”

_“Obviously.”_

“By the situation in general or by me?” she says needlessly poking at the pan with the spatula. Dick takes a step forward.

“By the situation in general,” he says slowly and with conviction. Kory half turns and pushes her curls back. “Why--,” Dick starts, but he can’t quite find the rest of the sentence. He chuckles to himself.

“You know I was in the circus?” It’s a deflection. It’s also something true. _Why would I be embarrassed of you, when you’re a 6-foot-tall goddess and I’m the one that’s a fucking mess?_ he wonders gazing at the her.

Kory rotates giving him and incredulous look. Slowly a smile creeps to the edges of her mouth. She starts to say something and stops, returning to her cooking.

“What?”

“Who are you?” she giggles. The sound blossoms in his chest radiating warmth through his fingers.

“Someone who’s done being weird about a date he had with a really amazing woman,” he offers. “Also maybe someone who hungry and thinks that fajitas smell pretty good.” Kory laughs.

When she turns around again, she looks at him for a long time. He doesn’t mind the laser scapeling as much this time. In fact, he might have missed it a little.

“So that was your foster dad,” she asks.

“Yeah, that was Bruce,” he nods, “and Alfred, and I’m sure you recognized Jason.”

“They seem lively,” she smirks.

“You know it,” smiles Dick, relaxing.

“I’ll have to formally introduce myself sometime,” she says. Dick laughs.

“Hey,” he says remembering, “can I get your phone number?”

*

He can’t take his eyes off the lime green chemise peeking out from Kory’s robe. She’s balancing an empty plate on her folded legs as the TV drones reruns of _House Hunters._ Her bare legs look soft under the yellowed light of the lamps, the green chemise hugs the tops of her thighs before it disappears under the robe and resurfaces along the curves of Kory’s breasts. Dick swallows.

“They’re never going to use that kitchen,” snorts Kory holding the fork between her teeth at an angle and shaking her head.

“Mhm,” says Dick charting the slopes of her thighs. Kory arches an eyebrow at him. He moves her plate from her lap onto the coffee table and gently folds his hand around hers to retrieve the fork. He leans in to kiss her.

“Don’t make it weird this time,” she teases closing her eyes. Dick grumbles something as his lips press onto hers, but he can’t stop smiling.

*

“You didn’t murder her, did you?” asks Rachel right as he walks in. _What a brat._ He throws the loop of the apron over his neck and ties it behind his back.

“Maybe I did,” says Dick emphatically.

“No, you didn’t, you’re still smiling,” she says with disinterest. Dick laughs feeling incredibly buoyant. He is smiling, he realizes. He’s _really_ happy.

“Thanks, Rachel,” he says pulling a bottle of black nail polish with a white gift bow out of his pocket and placing it on the counter next to her. “I owe you one.”

“Keep it together, boomer,” she smiles dropping the nail polish into her pocket.

“I’m not that much older than you,” chuckles Dick refilling the receipt paper. “I’m a millennial.”

“I’m sure that’s what they were called back in your day.” Dick laughs and rolls his eyes. He’s tempted to sing along with _Sleigh Ride_ as it comes on, after all, he knows all the words and its actually seasonally appropriate now that it’s December.

*

“Is it weird to ask her to come to the Christmas party?” he asks squeezing the phone between his shoulder and his face as he carries the boxes of coffee beans into the pantry at the back of the store.

“You want her to spend Christmas with us?” asks Donna, “I mean it’s kinda fast, don’t you think?”

“…is it?” asks Dick imagining Kory sitting on the ottoman in front of the fireplace. He wonders if she’d go for the whole Santa’s helper look with the striped stocking and the short, velvety red dress, and the hat. He’s not usually into that, but on Kory…

“Dick you’ve been dating for like a week.” _Kory’s legs in stripped stockings…_

“It’s been like three at least,” he says. _More if you count the weeks that I was thinking about asking her out and the week that I was looking for her,_ “and she’s from out of town.”

“and?” replies Donna completely unconvinced.

“She’ll be alone on Christmas if I don’t invite her.”

Donna pauses. “You know what, please do, I can’t wait to have front row seats to the second installment of the Kory Anders/Wayne family extravaganza.”

Dick somehow forgot about Bruce, and Alfred, and Jason. _Fuck._ All he wants to curl up by the manor fireplace with Kory in his arms, and drink eggnog, and eat Christmas cookies. This whole time his Christmas plans have consisted of strategically planning locations for mistletoe. He’s somehow managed to forget the glaring elephant in the room: his family.

“Also, didn’t Bruce promise to do a big fundraiser gala this year?” Donna asks, and with that, the reality of his Wayne family Christmas takes hold. He and Kory aren’t going to have a massive, empty manor house with claw foot tubs, and fireplaces, and luxuriously cooked Alfred-made meals. This is an odd numbered year meaning that Wayne Industries is having a gala; meaning: hob-nobbing with awful snobs from Gotham to Metropolis; eating unpronounceable hors d'oeuvre; and repeatedly being judged for his occupation. He’d rather die. Unfortunately, due the involvement required by Alfred and Bruce to set up and host the gala, this’ll be the whole of the Christmas festivities—especially now that he and Jason are adults. His heart sinks.

“Are you and Dianna doing anything?” he asks holding on hope.

“Don’t be stupid, we’re obviously coming to the gala.”

He sighs, “Well, I guess I’m buying Kory a gown then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing everyone’s dialogue, it’s so fun to bully Dick.


	8. Surprise?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter may cause tooth decay

“Ok, we’re here,” he says peeling his hands from her eyes as she giggles.

“…oh,” she says taking in the boutique and then turning to face him. She’s shocked, but pleasantly so—at least that’s what he’s getting from her wide-eyed expression. He bashfully shoves his hands into his pockets, hugging his elbows in.

“Surprise,” he shrugs.

She steps close to him and whispers, “Have you looked at the price tags in this place?”

“No actually,” he laughs, “but uh…we’re…privileged customers.” _Is this how Bruce feels? Because this is kinda weird._ Kory’s expression is skeptical. Dick realizes, for the first time, that Kory—his beautiful, funny, down to earth, out of town lover—has no idea who Bruce Wayne is. Somehow explaining it to her in this bourgeois dress shop makes the idea of broaching his inherited wealth that much more uncomfortable.

“Hi, Mr. Grayson!” chirps the slender, blonde shop attendant. “Something for the gala, yes?” she asks eyeing Kory and pulling a measuring tape from her blazer pocket. “It’s a pleasure, miss?”

Kory looks between Dick and the attendant, “Kory Anders?”

“Miss Anders!” gushes the attendant. “Lovely to meet you if you’ll just step into the light by these mirrors, I’ll get you measured in a jiffy and then we can start trying on gowns. With your physique you’re going to have _a lot_ of options,” she winks.

Kory looks back at Dick as the attendant whisks her into the mirrored half-circle at the back of the shop. He gives her a thumbs up before he flops into a comfortably stuffed chaise lounge nearby.

He feels significantly less terrible about bringing Kory here with no explanation when she steps out in her first dress. It’s a long-sleeved gown of rich gold sequins whose neck plunges deep revealing Kory’s vibrant skin. The skirt hugs her just right, cinching at the waist with sleek black clasp. The skirt bottom hovers just above the floor making Kory look impossibly tall. She’s radiant. Dick is dumbstruck. Kory rotates slowly, chary, looking at Dick incredulously.

“You look incredible,” he gapes. She beams and the glittering material seems to sparkle in the light of her smile.

*

“You gonna tell me what that was about,” she asks tucked beneath his arm as the train car jostles down the track. The fading twilight blurs with cold fluorescent streetlights and streaks into the train car in blocks.

“Do you have holiday plans?” he asks. Her brow furrows, scanning his face. “Be my date to the Wayne Industries Christmas Gala?”

“I’m sorry what?” _That’s right she doesn’t know._

“My foster dad, Bruce-“

“Oh my God! You’re foster dad is Bruce _fucking_ Wayne?” she whispers, slapping him in the chest. She turns to see if anyone overheard like she’s helping him keep a secret. That tickles his heart and he smiles to himself.

“Who are you, Grayson?”

He apologetically ruffles the hair on the back of his neck. “Surprise?” She gives him a look that reads, ‘I think you’ve met your ‘surprise’ quota for the day.’

“No wonder your apartment is so fucking big,” she mutters.

“I actually do pay for that myself,” he clarifies. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“On Jitters money?”

“Can we not,” he pleads.

Kory smirks and wraps an arm around his waist, “Ok. I’ll go to your fancy gala.”

“Great,” he says, a weight lifting off his chest. He kisses the top of Kory’s head and snuggles into her, his mind already scoping out alcoves and hideaways.

"Central station. Connections to green and yellow lines," announces the intercom. Kory looks up at Dick.

"Until next time," she says planting a soft kiss on his lips. It feels too soon to say goodbye to her today. Dick leans forward chasing her kiss, but she is already pulling her jacket closed around her as the train jerks to a stop. He lets his shoulders slump, hoping that his displeasure at their parting is apparent.

He knows he's being childish and unfair. Since he and Kory worked through the Wayne family intrusion, they've been inseparable. He's familiar with the whole new relationship ‘honeymoon’ period, but this feels different. He feels uncharacteristically comfortable with Kory. And happy. Maybe unnervingly so… Being around Kory gives him a rush of endorphins he's only found after hitting a particularly grueling workout. He's buoyant, energized. Dare he say: pleasant to be around? He's certainly been getting more smiles from customers lately.

Also, while he doesn't mind cooking, it is nice to have someone to alternate with. Kory's cooking is always an adventure into spice combinations that would not have occurred to him—she added a pinch of cardamom to one of Dick’s lentil curries, and he’s been thinking about it nonstop since then. Kory steps out onto the platform and he finds himself hopping out behind her.

"Dick?"

"Let me walk you to home," he offers, breath puffing around him in a cloud.

"Uh huh," she says looping her arm through his. "Aren’t you supposed to be out of surprises?”

Dick's cheeks are scalding. "I… Sorry." He’s overstepping. He’s pushing too hard, too fast. He doesn’t want to scare her off again. Kory laughs and clutches his arm as he tries to pull it clear of hers.

“You’re making dinner,” she says looking at him from her peripheral vision and plowing ahead through the snow.

“Okay,” he replies happily.

*

“What?” she hums.

“Nothing,” he replies tenderly trailing his knuckles along the edge of her face. She’s looks beautiful in that dress. Dick hopes she’ll enjoy the gala. He’s never really liked them, but he has a feeling this one will be different since Kory will be there. She’ll probably bitch about the food being bland though. Dick snickers.

“Use your human words, Grayson,” she teases poking his chest with her acrylic talons.

“You’re gonna think the food is trash,” chuckles Dick gazing at her.

“Where? At the fancy fest?”

He nods.

“I’ll still eat it,” she shrugs rolling out of bed with the sheets wrapped around her. Dicks eyes instinctively trace the rich, bare skin expose between drapes of the light blue sheet. Kory sits down at the vanity table and pulls out a dark glass bottle of what he now knows to be black castor oil. She drizzles the oil onto her fingertips before smoothing it along the edges of her hair. Dick enjoys the routine, the warm smell of her hair wafting through the room. She pulls her thick, curly hair up into a pineapple and tucks it under a purple silk bonnet.

“You should probably shower now, because I’m gonna need the bathroom for at least an hour tomorrow morning,” she says looking at him from the mirror as she returns the glass bottle back to its drawer. Dick sighs. The prospect of working in the morning is unspeakably ugly. He’d rather the bed swallow him so that he can sleep forever. He flops his head back onto the pillow.

“I’m excited for you to meet my friend Donna,” he says instead of moving.

“Dick Grayson has friends?” she mocks.

“Ha. Ha.”

“Should be fun. If she’s anything like you, we can all stand around silently and refuse to disclose anything personal about ourselves.”

Dick pulls the pillow out from behind his head and chucks it at Kory. She sees it sailing toward her in the mirror and swats it out of the air. She jumps up and lunges at the bed. Dick scrambles to meet her yanking her off balance. She falls into him with a giggle. He rolls on top of her scuffling to pin her hands. She’s stronger than she looks, realizes Dick with an impish smile. He mentally adds that to his list of kinks. She breaks her left hand free and uses it to prod the ticklish place under his ribs. He’s thrown off balance and lands on his side. Kory manages to grapple him with her thighs.

They wrestle around like children collapsing into a laughing, gasping, panting heap. Kory plants a series of giggly, wet kisses along the side of his face progressively climbing on top of him. She gazes down at him still quivering with silent laughter. His stomach flutters as he looks up at her.

“Kory,” he starts. _I love you._

“Dick,” she says playfully. He swallows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick is a lovestruck puppy. <3


	9. The Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is longer one. We gotta wrap this story up! Dick and Kory head to Gotham for the gala.

She reaches across the black leather backseat and tucks the wash tag back into his sweater.

“You nervous?” she asks.

He’s been looking out the window since the car picked them up at the airport. He reaches for her hand, squeezing it to steady himself, then holding it on the seat between them. He’s wondering if this is good idea. Gotham is long way away from home if this doesn’t work out. His stomach lurches at the thought. _What if it doesn’t work out?_ He can’t stand the thought of Kory boxing up his records and his shirts and his toothbrush. He doesn’t want her to run again. He doesn’t want to be stupid enough to push her to it, but he doesn’t trust himself.

He can feel her eyes on him, trying to untangle his thoughts. He can’t bring himself to face her.

“It’s just been a long time since I’ve been back,” he says watching the density of buildings thin as they drive out of the inner city. In another fifteen minutes they’ll enter that familiar grove of trees that leads to Wayne Manor. He squeezes Kory’s hand again and absentmindedly chews on his thumbnail.

*

“Hey sexy,” says Jason flashing Kory a toothy grin as he pulls open the massive door. Dick squints in disgust. Kory’s laughing.

“Master Jason, please,” sighs Alfred opening the double door wider and stepping aside to accommodate Dick and Kory’s entry into the house. Dick hugs Alfred on his way in, acutely aware of how Jason’s eyes follow Kory. He glues his hand into Kory’s lower back. Kory and Alfred exchange pleasantries. Jason laughs rolling his eyes and drifting deeper into the foyer.

Kory pulls off her big, circular sunglasses and shakes her head. “Are you serious?” she asks looking around. “Grayson, you’ve been holding out,” she whispers to Dick with a smile. Dick snorts. Alfred extends his arm and collects their coats.

“We can take the bags, thanks Alfred,” says Dick.

“Thanks, Alfred,” smiles Kory stepping from Dick’s guiding arm and wandering into the house.

“My pleasure, of course,” says Alfred. “Master Jason, can I get your assistance with the holiday punch?”

Jason’s ears perk. He rubs his hands together. “Oh yeah!”

Dick shutters to think how strong Jason will, undoubtedly, make the punch. He looks a look at Alfred and the look he gets back says, “Or you can let him follow you and Kory around.” Dick nods his thanks and Alfred bows slightly before walking away.

“Ha!” shrieks Kory from the portrait gallery. “Dick! Is this you?”

Dick’s head falls back in exasperation as he realizes exactly which painting she’s looking at. _Here we go,_ he thinks lacing his fingers together behind his head. He walks into the long, portrait laden hallway. _Yup._ Kory stands in front of the torso sized painting of him as a punk 14-year-old. The old painted 14-year-old scowls and leans impatiently against a big, red leather reading chair that’s probably still in the study.

“I know what I want for Christmas,” she teases.

“Oh yeah?” he laughs.

“We should hang this over the bed,” she giggles. Dick presses his face into his hand imagining that.

“I’m gonna go move our bags before Alfred comes back,” he says leaving Kory to continue laughing.

“Slow down,” she says gasping for air, “I’m gonna get lost in this place.”

“My room’s this way,” he says motioning his chin down the left corridor when she catches up.

“Wait, the room you grew up in?” she asks a roguish smile twisting her mouth.

“Can you enjoy this less, please?” he asks leading the way.

She looks between Dick and the sterile room.

“C’mon, I know you have something to say about this too,” he says when she stands there, mouth in hand. She shakes her head with a sarcastic eyebrow surveying each characterless item in the room.

“No it’s just, this is pretty much what I expected from someone who wears the same dark top, dark pants look every day,” she quips. Dick nods vigorously biting back his smile.

“Hey Kory,” he says with a devilish grin. She tries to dodge but he scoops her into a fireman’s carry and tosses her onto the king-sized bed. “I wear different colors,” he says climbing on top of her. Kory rolls her eyes, ambushed too successfully to fight back now. She crosses her arms over her chest, but her eyes twinkle playfully.

“Admit I wear different colors,” he boyishly demands.

“You wear shades between black and navy blue,” Kory snipes. She wriggles beneath him trying to free herself. Dick tightens the grip of his thighs feeling the heat rise in his core.

“Admit it.”

“Make me,” Kory challenges batting her eyelashes prettily. Dick rotates his head to the side, sucking his tongue in his mouth, considering that.

“Sure,” he says with a wicked glimmer. He bows over her, relishing the feel of his weight settling against her soft body. Her eyes flicker over his like matches against a matchbox. He traces his nose along her cheek until he finds her ear. He takes a slow exhale pinning Kory as she quakes under him. Her wiggling is making his pants tight. Kory’s hands dance down his body onto his ass. Dick melts lusty kisses along her neck, letting his breath tickle and chill the wet kisses. Kory’s fingers are undoing his buckle.

“Admit it,” he husks licking her neck.

“You wear so many colors,” she coos. Her hand plunges into his pants, hot against his naked thigh, and sliding up dangerously.

“You guys want a third?” jokes Jason from the doorway and Dick’s soul is forcefully ejected from his body.

*

Dick wonders how tight a bowtie knot has to be before it causes asphyxiation and whether he can get it that tight before he has to take the limo ride to the gala with Bruce and Jason.

“You ready, Grayson?” chimes Kory from the bathroom doorway. Is he ready? She’s the one that’s been in the bathroom for the last hour and a half.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he retorts.

“Then let’s go,” she says strutting out of the bathroom. Dick’s heart skips. The sequins on Kory’s dress rustle like a tide pulling back into the sea. Kory’s hair is fluffed into a curly halo. Tiny circlets of gold are pinned throughout her curls. She sweeps her hair from her face and as the light catches her cheeks, she glows.

Dick doesn’t know what to say. Kory tucks a black clutch under her arm and adjusts the angle of his bowtie.

“You look handsome,” she smiles. He reaches out and for her face and is suddenly afraid he’ll smudge her makeup and lowers it again. She giggles.

“You’re making it weir-“

“You look incredible,” he blurts.

“Thank you,” she beams lightly trailing her hand down the back of this gelled head. Dick’s heart thumbs into his mouth.

*

After a full day of successfully hoarding Kory’s attention, Dick resigns to fact that they have to leave for the gala.

“So you guys know about doors, right?” taunts Jason in the limo. Bruce’s eyebrows quirk. He twiddles with his cufflinks, chuckling silently. Dick closes his eyes and pretends he isn’t here.

“You’ve heard of minding your own business, right,” retorts Kory with a sharp smile.

Dick prepares himself for the coming barrage of reporters, socialites, businesspeople, and the general crowd of the ultra-rich. He squeezes Kory’s hand and she squeezes back. It makes him feel a little better. 

Every door for the next five minutes opens to the blinding flash of cameras. Bruce is immediately pulled for an interview. He nods for Jason, Dick, and Kory to go ahead. Jason cheeses for the first cohort of photographers and media people but quickly becomes bored.

“Gotta go compare punch recipes,” he says excusing himself from a heavily madeup interviewer.

“Richard! Who are you with? Who’s the lady on your arm? Who’s she wearing? Who are you wearing? How long are you in Gotham? Where have you been?”

Dick finds the familiar recess in Kory’s lower back and plants his hand there. They wade through the unending stream of paparazzi. He’s annoyed, like he knew he would be. He looks at Kory and finds her completely poised. She smiles pleasantly for the cameras as he hurries them along. She’s completely unphased and unbothered by the attention. _Wow,_ he thinks. He’s impressed. He pulls her closer, hoping some of that grace will rub off on him. Also, he realizes, he doesn’t want to share her. _That’s a little Murderface of you, Dick…_ Even acknowledging it, he can’t bring himself to release her.

They finally enter the ballroom and he thinks he’s home free when Donna jumps out from behind a curtain of holly, cellphone camera up, clicking away.

“Gotta take a couple ‘before’ photos,” she laughs.

“Donna come on,” says Dick immediately chasing her off.

*

“Do you dance, Grayson?” Kory asks already holding both his hands and pulling him toward the center of the room. Dick’s ears are on fire.

“Not without choreography,” he admits.

“It’s a slow song,” she purrs. She steps toward him to the beat of the music adding a little shimmy. Dick takes a deep breath unable to take his eyes off her, unable to hold in his smile. He happily takes the excuse to throw his arms around her. It takes a little while for Dick to get into it, but Kory’s relaxed, hypnotic movements eventually bleed into him.

“See, it’s not so bad,” she smirks. Dick’s smile widens.

“It’s not so bad with you,” he relents. They glide graceful circles around the giant Christmas tree at the center of the room. He loves the way she smiles at him. Everything about her sparkles. _I’m in love with her,_ he admits to himself and it’s no less horrifying the second time. Dick’s heart thumps in his throat as Kory rests her head on his shoulder.

“Kory,” he starts, “Can we-”

“Dick?” inquires a soft voice behind them. Dick catches a faint whiff of vanilla. Kory leans up off him with a curious smile.

“Dawn,” chokes Dick turning around.

“Hi,” she replies initiating a hug. Dick steps forward and presses Dawn into a quick hug. Kory looks up at him, interested.

“It’s been a while, how are you?” asks Dawn.

“Good. Great. It’s been…,” he struggles, “everything is going really well. They uh, they replaced the jammed cabinet in the kitchen. Well, you know, the door not the whole…cabinet. Also, I finally got around to fixing the hole in the drywall so…” _Why did I bring **that** up?_

“Oh. Sounds, great,” says Dawn trying to keep up the conversation.

“It’s pretty good,” mumbles Dick looking at the floor.

“Hi,” interjects Kory in the lull, “I’m Kory.” She reaches out her hand and Dawn shakes it amicably. Dick gulps. He should have introduced her instead of putting his stupid fucking foot into his stupid fucking mouth. 

“This is Dawn, Kory. Kory, Dawn.”

Dawn blinks and looks down. “How do you two know each other?” she asks.

“We’re dat-”

“We met at work, well my work. Jitters,” Dick blurts, unwittingly interrupting Kory. He clenches his jaw.

“Oh…that’s nice,” says Dawn in a stiff tone.

Kory shoots Dick a look that reads, “This is your ex-girlfriend, isn’t it?” Dick gives a microscopic nod and hopes, that her laser scapeling powers will allow her to see it. The inside of Dick’s mouth feels like he’s just licked a cotton ball.

“So are you just in Gotham for the gala or…”

“Just for the gala, then it’s back to DC.” The silence that follows is tense.

“That’s probably for the best, Gotham gets _crazy_ around New Years.” Dick snorts and he and Dawn chuckle. Kory can tell it’s a joke but doesn’t have the context to untease it. She leans her weight to the side, waiting for this to be over.

“Well if it isn’t Dicky-Boy,” howls a sturdy blonde with massive shoulders. Dick doesn’t need to turn around to recognize Hank’s voice.

“Hey buddy,” says Hank with a thoroughly unpleasant smile. “Whatcha doin’ with my girl?” Hank looks Kory up and down in question.

“Oh...kay,” Kory sighs looking between Dawn, Hank, and Dick. “We were just leaving.”

Hanks and Dick look at Kory. Dick takes the cue gladly and the two of them extricate themselves.

“Wow. That was,” Kory nods, “incredible.”

Dick is shoegazing. “Yeah.”

“So…Dawn huh?”

“Kory, we don’t have to do this now,” he replies embarrassed. Kory’s sucks in her bottom lip and looks deep into his face.

“Ok.” She stands looking at him with her hand on her hip.

“I’m gonna go get some punch,” Kory sighs stepping out of Dick’s hold, the warmth of her body evaporating immediately from his skin, leaving him cold.

*

“Kory what’re you doing?”

Dick’s been looking for her for, what feels like, an hour. She’s wedged in tight circle of giggling socialites. Jason’s there too. _Why?_

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she bites. “I’m enjoying the party.”

Jason clinks their glasses together and hoots. His cheer is met by the other pretty people in the circle. The crowd feels too fast for Dick, but he shoulders in next to Kory anyway.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks hoping to entice her to come back to him.

“Not really,” she says picking another drink off a passing tray and looking past him.

“What is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” she maintains. He huffs and crosses his arms.

“Yes, you do,” he insists. Kory leads him, by his elbow, out of the circle.

“You wanna know my problem, Grayson? I embarrass you.”

“What?” he asks genuinely confused.

Kory throws her arms up. “We met at work?” she quotes, “We’re dating, Dick! Or, shit, that’s what I thought.”

“Kory, that’s… no. No, I was just off my game because of Dawn.”

“Ok.” Somehow he knows it’s not OK. “This is your hometown, I know you know the people here. You haven’t introduced me to anyone all night.”

“Everyone here sucks-”

“Donna?”

“She was busy.” He regrets that statement as soon as it leaves his mouth.

“I’m gonna go,” she says shooting back the last of her champagne and stomping off.

“Kory! Wait dammit!” he says weaving between party goers.

“Kory!” he calls, but she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason’s a fuckin’ goon. But he’s my fuckin’ goon, and I love him. Also: Here goes Dick again, making it weird. SMH On the real tho, I hope the drama in this chapter isn’t too artificial…


	10. Yup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get fixed and we get the gooey feels we came for.

Hank is so drunk and Dick knows he shouldn’t.

He rocks back finding his footing.

“Come on Dicky, fight me like a big boy,” cajoles Hank giving him another shove, this time throwing Dick into a marble column with a hard thump. _Ow, fuck this._ Dick straightens off the column and cracks his knuckles.

“Hey,” hollers Jason appearing on the scene. “Fuck off!” He punches Hank square in the face. That sobers Dick into behaving like an adult.

“Jason, don’t,” shouts Dick inserting himself between Jason and Hank as the youngest man rears up for another swing.

“Don’t worry,” says Hank twitching the punch from his face, “there’s enough for both of you.” Dick manages to block Jason’s incoming punch, only to step into Hank’s.

“Fuck!” he cries as his nose sprays blood over the front of his shirt.

“Hank,” yells Dawn, pulling Hank’s arm away from Dick.

Dick has a visceral memory of his last fight. Hank was there. So was Dawn.

Dick clings onto Jason as the younger man thrashes around itching to keep fighting.

This is a bad combination for him, he realizes. Dawn is great. He has a lot of really good memories with Dawn. Sure, she kicked him in the heart and left him to bleed out in a sea of his own inadequacy, but before that she was always a gentle, sweet person. It was his own ‘emotional unavailability’— _that’s pretty much verbatim_ —that pushed her away. Anyway, from his perspective, the worst thing about Dawn has always been Hank.

He dodges out of the way of an errant fist.

He doesn’t need this. He could be finding mistletoe with Kory, right now. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with how royally he fucked up. Dick looks up to see a crowd of people gathering around the four of them. Cellphone cameras flash. Dick sighs. The flashing seems to sedate Hank. Dick lets go of Jason and climbs to his feet.

He sits on the back steps of the gala hotel watching the snow drift in thick clumps as he presses his handkerchief against his bloodied nose. He feels like a piece of shit and wishes the universe would let him freeze to death out here. More so though, he wishes Kory would come out and hold him. He drops his head into his hands, trying to shake off the suffocating feeling closing in on him. 

He’s not embarrassed of her. Not even a little bit. Though, he does admit, as he rewinds his interactions with Kory and his Gotham family, that he could have made better choices. Dick hates that it literally took a punch to the head to gain clarity. _What’s wrong with me?_

He pulls out his phone and calls a lift. It’s time to go back to the house and pray that Kory is there.

*

His heart is pumping overtime as he approaches Wayne Manor. He’s done so many stupid things in this house. But somehow, this house has always welcomed him back. He really hopes Kory is in there to welcome him back.

The house is dark. It’s late. A solitary candelabra flickers near the settee by the fireplace.

“Master Dick, welcome back,” says Alfred flatly, “Your lady friend returned some time ago, I was surprised when she arrived without you.” _Same old house._

Dick is so relieved that she’s here that he barely registers Alfred’s disappointment. He strides over to the settee, hugs Alfred tightly, and then races down the hall. Alfred smiles to himself and returns to this novel.

“Kory,” he croaks swinging open the bedroom door to find her in a bathrobe on the bed.

“What happened to your face,” she says rushing to his side. It’s a stupid thing to smile about, but he does. She plucks the handkerchief from his hands folding it and returning a clean edge for his nose.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve been shitty since we got here.” He forces himself to look her in the eye. “Kory,” he begins slowly, “you’re,” _how to finish this sentence._

“Amazing? Hilarious? Well dressed?”

“All those things,” he confesses, happy for the help. “I’ve been an asshole. I know. I’m sorry.” Kory looks at him, threading her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, permitting him to say what he needs to say. _This is gonna sound fucked, but here we go._ “I don’t want to share you. I don’t want anyone to scare you away. I don’t want anyone to tell you all the stupid, fucked up shit I’ve done in Gotham. That’s why I’ve been so bad at showing you off.” He shrugs wildly searching for somewhere to look that isn’t Kory’s face. He cautiously places a hand on her waist. She doesn’t flinch away and he steadies himself.

“I love you,” he breathes. His bowtie feels too tight. This isn’t the right time. This is stupid. _Too fast._

“You _love_ me?”

“Yup,” he says scared but earnest. He’s doing his best to maintain eye contact and to stand here instead of finding an excuse to run away.

Kory huffs a laugh, eyebrows knitting together, eyelashes fluttering. She scans Dick’s face and then pulls him into a kiss. He finds her lips open and sinks into them letting her exhale sweep through him. Her arms drape around his neck. She kisses him again. His fear drifts away like an untethered balloon. His hands slide along her waist and pull her into him until there’s no room left between them. When she breaks away, he’s moon-eyed.

“You’re a wild one, Dick Grayson, but you’re cute,” she whispers stroking the back of his neck. Her smile is magnetic. His eyelids fade closed as he falls into her gravity. Kory’s hand gently finds his jaw as he coaxes open her mouth for another kiss. This one is soft. So is the next one. And the one after that.

“I love you too,” she exhales at last. Dick could cry.

“What kind of ‘stupid, fucked up shit’ did you do in Gotham?” she teases. He kisses her again to stop her from following the thought. She giggles and Dick peppers her with more kisses. Her smile is infectious. Dick holds her close, not sure he’ll ever let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well y’all, that was a journey. If you made it this far: thank you so much, I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> How am I doing so far? You guys getting your coffee shop fix?


End file.
